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Chapter Fifteen
Zadie
Deacontooktheseatnext to mine, and I groaned. Not inwardly either. It had been a long, long week, and I was out of patience. This guy wasn’t taking a hint. He was annoying, but he was relatively harmless, especially when he broke away from his laughing bros.
But I was at the end of my rope, so my normal empathy was frazzled into near nothing.
“Hey.” He grinned at me, and even that annoyed me. “TGIF am I right?”
“Mmm.”
“Do you have plans this weekend?”
“I don’t know.” I opened my laptop, tilting it away from him before typing in the password.
What I wanted to do this weekend was lock myself in my room and do all the homework I’d been neglecting over the last couple weeks while I played pet to Amir and his crew. I wouldn’t get to do that, though. Not in the way I needed to recharge. I was at Amir’s beck and call.
The sacrifice I’d been making for Amir’s protection had seemed worth it in the beginning. My time, my pride, my energy were all things I could give up so I wasn’t terrified of my own shadow—so I could leave my dorm without being constantly afraid.
That was before I realized how much it would wound me to come face-to-face with the reality that Amir did not reciprocate my feelings for him on any level. Before I had to smell another woman on his clothes. Before I had to contend with a bitter jealousy raging through my system I’d never once felt.
“There’s a party tomorrow night and—”
I turned to Deacon. “Please don’t finish your sentence.” I didn’t like him. I thought he was kind of terrible. I still didn’t want to have to reject him.
His expression was genuinely perplexed. “Why not?”
My sigh was heavy with exasperation. “Just don’t, okay? You should sit with your friends. I’m not in a chatty mood.”
He twisted in his seat to face me. “See, this is the problem with you, Zadie. I hear you rejecting me, but you’re so adorable and polite about it, it makes me like you even more. You’re not like other girls—”
I cringed hard. “That’s not the compliment you think it is.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think you’re hearing me. I’m trying to say something nice to you.”
“It’s not a compliment if you have to put down other women to give it.”
“Ah, a feminist.” He bobbled his head like he’d uncovered an important truth. “I can dig that.”
My nose scrunched. “That’s not what feminism is,” I murmured.
He leaned closer. “What?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but I’d rather not talk anymore. It would make both of us more comfortable if you sat with your friends.”
Deacon stilled, staring a hole into the side of my head. “I don’t get you. If you had any idea what I gave up—you know what? Never mind. You’re obviously having a bad day, so I’m not going to push you.”
“Thanks.” I loaded as much sarcasm into that one word as I was physically capable of.
“I’m not a bad guy, Zadie. I know I can be a dick, and I showed you the worst of me, but I think a girl like you could bring out the best. You’re a quality girl, and I’m a quality guy. I’m just asking you to keep an open mind, because I think you’re adorable and sweet. I can’tstopthinking about you, actually.”
His declaration of infatuation, or whatever it was, gave me the chills. Goose bumps sprouted up and down my arms. Fortunately, he got up and moved to sit with his friends, who earned their laughing boy nickname by cackling at Deacon until our professor called the class to order.
This wasn’t the first time I’d asked myself if Deacon could be the one leaving the poems for me. I’d received another one this week, the same terribly written rhymes carefully typed on white paper. I hadn’t told Amir or my suitemates or even my mother. It was as though my throat couldn’t push out enough air to form the words. At least not those words. I’d spent so much of my life talking about my stalker—to my parents, therapists, the police, lawyers—I thought maybe I was just done.
I didn’t want my biggest personality trait to be the stalker girl. Was that too much to ask?
Probably.
